


of the night

by magicmagnus



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Curses, Flirting, M/M, Mythology References, Pandemonium Club (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Sentient Buildings, Slow Burn, tags and characters will be added as we go, the reality warp nightclub au you didn't know you wanted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 23:26:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14007141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicmagnus/pseuds/magicmagnus
Summary: “You really believe in all that stuff?”Izzy leveled a look back at him. “And you don’t? Not any of it? Not ghosts, or aliens, or magic? Not even miracles?"Alec snorted. “I’m a homicide detective, Iz. No one else in the world could use a miracle or two as much as I could. But this?” he tapped the ream of papers in his hand. “This isn’t going to have a happy ending, Iz. Other people have been trying to solve it for years.”----When journalist Isabelle Lightwood goes missing during an investigation for an upcoming article, her brother, detective Alec Lightwood, takes matters into his own hands. His search for his sister leads him to the mysterious Pandemonium nightclub -- a supposedly haunted venue that has been at the center of a series of disappearances spanning decades. Once inside, Alec attempts to wind his way through the crowds and various floors, only to realize that not only is the nightclub bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, but also that he is unable to leave. In order to find his sister and free himself and the others trapped inside, Alec must employ the help of Magnus Bane -- an elusive and alluring man whose own fate is deeply entangled with that of the club.





	1. what are you afraid of?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! What an interesting journey this has been -- I know that for me and many of the others who participated in the big bang, this has been a looooong journey, and I know many of us are excited to finally share our works!
> 
> Special thanks to my artist, Jill ([dimshums](https://dimshums.tumblr.com) on tumblr), and my beta, Persy ([banesomamori](https://banesomamori.tumblr.com)). I've really enjoyed working with both of you! Also, thank you to Julianne and Maz, for their support and for cheering me on when I was low. Please don't forget to go check out [the amazing art work](http://dimshums.tumblr.com/post/172017268810/of-the-night-m-10k-wip-by-magicmagnus) that Jill made! This fic is a minibang that will certainly spiral on longer than it should -- hope you're in for the ride. I'll be adding tags for characters and content as they appear, and just a warning -- some themes may be intense. And I am [magicmagnus](https://magicmagnus.tumblr.com) on tumblr, please come talk to me some time!

_ The minotaur more than justifies the existence of the labyrinth.  _   
                                                            - Jorge Luis Borges, _"Ibn-Hakam al-Bokhari, Murdered in His Labyrinth_ ,"   


* * *

  
  
_ “‘The seed of despair -- how the gruesome tragedy of the Salem Witch Trials birthed the Jersey Devil,’” _ Alec read aloud. He flicked the cheap, pulpy paper of the magazine down, staring at his sister over the top of it with raised eyebrows. “I can’t believe you’re still doing this, Iz.” 

Izzy hummed noncommittally from where she stood in front of a mirror, modelling different pairs of earrings. Her gaze flicked to Alec’s reflection in the mirror; when she saw the magazine in his lap, she rolled her eyes and whirled around.

“Give me _ that _ ,” Izzy said, yanking the brightly colored magazine out of her brother’s hands. A long, silver earring dangled from one ear, contrasting with the diamond stud in the other. She flipped the magazine around, studying the cover: a grainy photo of a smiling woman cradling an alien baby in her arms. She shrugged, dropping it back onto Alec’s lap. “That was a good one.”Alec raised an eyebrow and Izzy cracked a smile. “Well, my article was good,” she said. “The rest of them aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.” Alec ran a page between his finger. That definitely wasn’t much. 

Izzy meandered back toward the mirror. “Do you like the long ones or the short ones more?”

“Does it matter?” At the black glare she sent him, he added, “You look great in both of them?”

He caught his sister’s smile reflected in the mirror. “Good answer, big brother. I thought you came over for dinner, not to judge my job. God knows Mom and Dad are going to be doing enough of that tonight.” 

Alec flicked his eyes down to the magazine. He thumbed through the pages until he found his sister’s name. Despite the poorly doctored photo of the Jersey Devil and the bolded excerpts scattered around in scare quotes, the article was wonderfully written. His sister’s words flowed through the next few pages. Alec didn’t believe any of it, but he recognized his sister’s cunning analysis and witty wordplay. He scanned the article. Even a skeptic like him might be swayed by her words. “You could write for any magazine in the world, Iz.” He dropped the copy of WORLD NEWS WEEKLY onto the white coffee table. Next to it, still open to an article about some political scandal, was an issue of the New Yorker. He glanced at it pointedly. “Ones that publish actual news, even.”

Izzy turned to him with a sigh. She had settled on the diamond studs. “I like my job, Alec,” she said. “I make up my own hours, I can write from my bedroom, I get to travel.”

“To exotic places like New Jersey?”

Shuddering at the mention, Izzy plowed ahead. “There are other places, too. Better ones.” She sat down in the armchair opposite Alec, twisting a lock of hair around her fingers -- her eternal give-away for nerves, and Alec felt guilty. It was their weekly dinner night, something what Izzy jokingly referred to as a pre-game for dinner with their parents. Alec could leave the judgment to them.

Izzy leaned forward, a conspiratorial smile on her face. “Do you want to hear about my next project?”

“I don’t know, do I?”

Izzy kicked at his leg playfully. “Of course you do, but you can’t tell anyone. Especially not Mom and Dad.”

Frowning, Alec sat up a little bit straighter and crossed his arms. “Why not? Is it something dangerous?”

“No. Well, probably not. Wait here for a minute.”

Izzy disappeared into her bedroom and Alec raked the small living room with his eyes. Whatever they were paying her, it couldn’t be too bad. Her Greenwich apartment was small, but it was nice and beautifully furnished. Alec wouldn’t have guessed there was any money in writing for tabloids, but the place was far nicer than the spartan apartment he had lived for years. 

Izzy returned to the room in a click of heels, a thick manila folder clasped in her hands. She shoved the magazines out of the way and set the folder on the table, flipping it open and rifling through a mountain of documents. 

“Is that the work of a serial killer?” 

Smiling, Izzy raised her eyebrows. “Might be. Here,” she pulled out a stack of papers. “Have you heard of Pandemonium?”

Alec held his hand out. “The nightclub?”

“Yeah,” said Izzy, scooting forward to sit on the edge of her seat. She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“Never been.”

“Me neither, but it’s like… a New York City institute, you know? It’s been around forever. It used to be the DuMort Hotel, but that was demolished in the sixties. There are so many rumors. Most of them are bullshit, but I heard one story...”

Alec let his sister chatter on in the background. He sifted through the papers for a moment, stopping short when he came to a few pages of photocopied photographs. Frowning, he focused on a smiling young woman with red hair. She looked familiar, but Alec couldn’t place her. He shifted his gaze, studying the boy seated next to her with a dawning sense of apprehension.

“...haunted. One of the other writers was going to do it, but he bailed, which was probably a good thing. It was Alien Baby Brad,” she said with a roll of her eyes. She flicked the discarded magazine with her finger, glaring down at the  front page. “We’ll see who gets the cover story this time.”

“Izzy,” Alec said, still studying the photographs. He picked up the picture of the young woman, her hair bright even through the faded ink. “You can’t go messing with this. These are open investigations  --”

“-- from decades ago, Alec. No offense, but do you think the police still care about any of it?”

Alec swallowed, the hardened eyes of his captain flashing in his mind. “Some of them do, Iz. I don’t think this is a good idea. It could be dangerous.”

“It will be fine, Alec,” Izzy said in the same tone she might use with a child. “I’m just going to take an EMF reader --” Alec rolled his eyes “-- and ask some questions. There are tons of urban legends about this place.”   
  
“You really believe in all that stuff?”

Izzy leveled a look back at him. “And you don’t? Not any of it? Not ghosts, or aliens, or magic, or even miracles? Nothing at all?”

Alec snorted. “I’m a homicide detective, Iz. No one else in the world could use a miracle or two as much as I could. But this?” He tapped the ream of papers in his hand. “This isn’t going to have a happy ending. Other people have been trying to solve it for years.”

His words settled over the room, swallowed by a lull of silence.

“Well, even if I find nothing, at least I’ll still get to go dancing,” Izzy smiled triumphantly. 

Alec opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by Izzy’s phone. 

“That’s probably the taxi,” said Izzy. She leaned over the coffee table, ripping the papers out of Alec’s hand fast enough to slice the skin on his thumb and shoving them back into the folder. One fluttered away unnoticed, slipping under the coffee table.  “We should get going.”

Alec stood, sighing. His finger stung, a bead of red blood forming on the pad of his thumb. He wiped it away with a tissue, the smiling faces from the photographs still burning in his mind’s eye.

* * *

 

The Mediterranean restaurant Izzy had chosen was one of those hole-in-the-wall spots nestled into every nook and cranny of New York City, seemingly invisible to tourists but indispensable to locals. The walls were an authentic red brick, the lighting just dim enough to feel private, rather than dismal. The smell of spiced tea wafted through the air, and Alec watched distractedly as a handsome waiter whisked two steaming mugs toward a couple in the corner. Izzy had always had a knack for finding the best places. With the amount of time she spent typing away in coffee shops and restaurants, one might mistake her for a food blogger or travel writer -- she certainly had the background for it. It was as if she knew every borough like the back of her hand.

Not that it was food, typically, that brought her to each location. 

“Do you know what they say about this place?” Izzy asked, spearing a dolma with her fork. Her eyes sparkled with the excitement of a little girl telling a hushed story over a campfire. All she needed was a flashlight under her chin. 

Alec hummed in response, fingers tapping against the table. He didn’t need to guess. His eyes drifted around the restaurant, glancing off the few other patrons. “What do they say?”

Izzy knocked the pointed toe of her shoe into Alec’s ankle under the table. He glared at her; Izzy was stronger than she looked. “They say it’s haunted.” 

“Of course they do.” Alec pushed the food around his place with a fork, somewhat unsure of what Izzy had ordered for him.  “Who, exactly, are ‘they’, anyway?”

“Locals, regulars, employees.” Izzy nibbled on the dolma, relishing her ghost story more than her food. “There have been reports of a little girl’s reflection appearing in the front windows. The original owner’s daughter died in their apartment upstairs. Apparently, you can still see her pressing her hands and nose against the glass at night…” 

Alec listened halfheartedly, eyes tracking a handsome waiter as he went from table to table. He had smiling eyes, Alec thought, the kind that seemed to glitter in the dim light of the restaurant. The waiter laughed at a joke, loud enough to drown out the earlier conversation in Izzy’s apartment.    
  
“... one account from a couple said that they heard a little girl laughing at that table over there, but there were no children in the restaurant-- Alec? Alec, are you listening to me?”

Alec was caught from his reverie by his sister’s manicured hand waving in his face. He gave her an annoyed look, pushing her hand out of his face. Unintentionally, his eyes darted back to the waiter as he disappeared into the kitchen. Izzy followed his gaze in time to catch a glimpse of dark hair, and gave a low whistle that earned them a glare from a nearby table.

“Not bad.”She shifted her gaze back to Alec, sizing him up before saying, “He’s cute. You should say something to him.” 

Alec sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Izzy…” 

“What?” she demanded. 

Alec said nothing. The two stared at each other, a silent battle of wills playing out between them, like the hundreds of their youth. It was Izzy who folded first, setting her fork down against her plate with a sigh. 

“Alec --”

“Izzy, leave it.” 

“Why?” Izzy asked, crossing her arms in front of her. “We never talk about this.” 

“It isn’t any of your business.” 

“ _ You’re _ my business, Alec. You’re my brother. And you’re not happy, and you won’t even try to be.” Her eyes searched his face. “ I just want you to be happy, Alec. When was the last time you went on an actual date?” Alec’s silence spoke for him. She pushed on. “When was the last time you had se--”

“ _ Izzy _ ,” Alec hissed, ears burning. “This is a family restaurant.”

“Who cares? There aren’t any kids here.” 

“Except for a six year old ghost,” Alec muttered. 

It was the wrong thing to say. Alec knew it before he had even finished the sentence, but he couldn’t pull the words back from the air. Izzy’s posture went erect, her jaw squared. 

“Just because you’re obsessed with pleasing them doesn’t mean you have to drag me into it. Again. I know what Mom and Dad think about my job and I don’t care. I thought you didn’t, either,” she said, clearly wounded. 

Alec sighed. “I don’t, Izzy. Really.” 

Once again, a shroud of silence fell over them. Alec struggled for the words, just as he had for the past five years, before saying quietly, “I owe them a lot, Iz. I can’t keep disappointing them.” 

And just like that, the taught rope of Izzy’s anger snapped, making way once more for concern. “Oh Alec,” she said, softer than he could bear to hear, “You can’t keep blaming yourself for that. It wasn’t your fault.” 

“Wasn’t it? Who else do I have to blame, Iz, except myself?”

“How about the situation? Or Mom and Dad for forcing you into it in the first place?”

Alec stared stonily at the table. “They didn’t force me into anything. I did it myself. And I’m the one who got myself kicked out, too.” 

“You can’t change who you are, Alec,” Izzy said, settling her hand on top of his. He fought the urge to pull his undeserving hand away, knowing it would only hurt his sister. “And there’s nothing wrong with it. You can’t hate yourself over that for your entire life.” 

Alec sighed. His eyes darted toward the window, wondering if he might be able to see a small, laughing ghost pressing her face against the glass. Instead Alec only caught his own, guilty eyes reflected back at him. He turned his gaze back to his sister, and slid his hand out from under hers. 

“I can’t go through it all again, Izzy. There’s too much to lose.”

Izzy watched his hand as it slipped away. Her gaze fell on his uneaten dinner, and then up to his face. “Alec,” she said, her gaze boring straight into his, “What are you afraid of? Losing what you have, or getting what you want?” 

Her quiet question caught Alec off guard. It seemed to ring through the restaurant. When Alec said nothing, she balled her napkin up and dropped it onto her plate. Standing, she shrugged on her jacket and waved down a waiter. Turning to Alec, she said, “You can get my tab.” 

Much to Alec’s chagrin, it was the handsome, dark haired waiter who came with the bill, smiling as he asked how the meal had been. Despite the fact that most of Alec’s ended up in a takeout box, they both insisted it had been excellent. The waiter had left a phone number on the receipt that Alec could hardly stand to look at. The walk to the subway station was filled with a terse silence, their earlier conversation echoing through Alec’s head as they descended underground.

When Izzy moved in for a hug before their train, Alec raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

Izzy shook her head and adjusted her purse. “I’m meeting up with another writer for drinks about that piece I’m working on,” she explained. “I’ll get a tax for the way back.” 

Concerned, Alec raised an eyebrow. “Izzy, I don’t like this. Are you going to be alright on your own?”

Izzy laughed. “My overprotective brother,” she said fondly. She moved as if to ruffle his hair, but Alec dodged her hand, prompting another bout of laughter. “Don’t worry about me,” she assured with a smile. “I’ll be fine.” 

* * *

  
Izzy’s words followed Alec home that night, crept into bed with him and kept him up late into the night.  _ What are you afraid of? _ echoed around in his head, and no amount of tossing and turning could shake it away.  _ Losing what you have, or getting what you want? _

Weren’t they the same?

* * *

  
The ritual of family dinner was an exhausting affair, especially in recent years. Sometimes, Alec was wistful for the year he had spent practically banished from his parents’ home, when he didn’t have to worry about dressing up in a suit jacket just to sit around the table and silently shuffle around serving dishes. On the other hand, he couldn’t stand to miss more years of his youngest brother’s life, so he braved the ever-mounting tension surrounding his sister’s job and the barbed comments about his “lifestyle choices” in order to have some time every other week to joke around with his siblings.

The Lightwoods’ townhouse in the Upper East Side never really changed. Illuminated by streetlights, the white stone glowed coldly in the evening air, almost as cold as the current that ran between Alec’s parents. Up the spiral staircase, set across the hall from the kitchen, they gathered in the dining room as they did every night, each one settled into their usual chairs. Jace’s was vacant, as it usually was when he was on duty, but Maryse’s eyes narrowed on the empty seat next to Max. 

“I suppose there’s a good reason your sister is running late?” She asked Alec, straightening the expertly set silverware by her plate. 

“She didn’t say anything about it,” Alec said. 

“Lightwoods aren’t late,” his mother reminded him in the same stern voice she had used throughout his childhood. She nudged her soup spoon a fraction of an inch to the right. 

Dinner didn’t begin until everyone was seated. At first, it was just annoying. Maryse looked as if she was going to have an aneurysm. 

“Is it possible Izzy made other plans for the evening?” Robert asked, brow furrowed. 

“She wouldn’t,” Alec said. “She didn’t tell me anything about it, at least.”

Maryse continued to fidget with the silverware, light glinting distractingly with each movement. At first, Alec was certain she was just being neurotic as usual, until he noticed her kneading the white linen of the tablecloth between her fingers, and he realized that she wasn’t angry -- she was nervous, ever more so as the minutes bled on.

Not a single one of their calls made it through to Izzy’s phone, each one getting a short dial tone followed by a bubbly, _ “Izzy Lightwood! If you’re getting a message, you’ve missed me! Leave a message after the beeeeeep!”  _ Eventually, the sound of her cheerful voice was enough to make Alec sick. 

After an hour, it was clear something was wrong.    


* * *

  
When the elevator doors slid open, it was to the same floor of the precinct station that Alec had walked nearly every day for the last five years. The ever-present sound of the coffee percolator, the annoying buzz of the printer as it spit out a stack of papers, the hushed flirting of one of the younger officers and the captain’s receptionist --  the soundtrack of Alec’s career. The annoying background noise of his daily life might have been a welcome comfort, but a stifled hush descended across the room as soon as he stepped out of the elevator. Voices fell, replaced by the stuttered sound of typing. People averted their gazes as he walked by. 

Alec didn’t care. Shoulders squared, eyes staring straight ahead, he walked past his desk and toward the captain’s office. The sound of his fist hammering against the door echoed around the room.

The door swung open to reveal Captain Luke Garroway. The captain gave a tired sigh when he saw Alec, wordlessly waving him into the office. He barked an order the rest of the squad room to get back to work. The door closed on a susurrus of hushed gossip. 

The office, decorated in dark wood, seemed more foreboding than ever. Luke took a seat behind his desk with a sigh. The blinds behind him were open, silhouetting Luke and his office in fragmented sunlight, a reminder of the beautiful spring day outside. Alec remained standing. 

“So?” he asked, jaw clenched. The captain raised an eyebrow.    
  
“ _ So _ ?” he repeated. “So what, detective?”

“So,” Alec tried again, arms crossed over his chest. “Have they found anything new?”

Captain Garroway gave a sigh, passing a hand over his face. His hair and beard were touched with gray, and Alec was suddenly struck by how much the last few years had aged him. He folded his hands together on the desk and looked up at Alec. 

“Detective,” he started, “I understand this is difficult for you, but the fact remains that the investigation is out of our juri-”

“ -- out of our goddamn jurisdiction,” Alec said with a roll of his eyes. He tossed his hand up in a frustrated gesture, as if grasping for something that wasn’t there. “And there aren’t any new leads, because it isn’t a priority --”

“-- Detective Lightwood --”

“-- and meanwhile my little sister is  _ missing, _ ” Alec continued, getting more worked up with each word. He couldn’t help it. He paced up and down the office, hands shaking at his sides. “They’re just sitting on their asses over there, if you would just let me --”

“-- Detective Lightwood!”

The captain didn’t shout often. Under normal circumstances, that would have been enough to halt Alec in his tracks -- not that he would have disrespected a senior officer in the first place. These were not normal circumstances, though. Alec whipped around and stormed to the captain’s desk, slamming his hands against the wood hard enough to rattle the bronze name plate.   
  
“She’s been missing for over a week,” Alec said. His voice came out calmer than he expected it to. “Nine days.  _ Nine _ . Do you know how many missing persons end up dead within the first forty eight hours?”

“I am aware of the statistics, Detective,” said Luke. “Sit down.” 

“I’m not going to --”

“Sit. Down. “ 

The captain’s tone left no room for argument. Huffing, Alec dropped himself onto one of the chairs opposite Luke. He tangled his hand in his hair out of frustration, eyes darting around. Alec had spent the last week avoiding a mirror, but he caught his haggard reflection in the window. God, he was tired. Deep purple bags had settled in under his eyes, evidence of few, restless hours of sleep. 

“It’s been nine days,” Alec repeated. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Captain, I don’t -- she could be anywhere. She could be dead. She could be hurt. She’s my baby sister,” he said, voice hoarse. “If anything happens to her…”

“Detective Lightwood -- Alec,” said Captain Garroway. He looked almost as tired as Alec felt. Officers had been reprimanded for far less, but the captain’s tone was gentle. Alec looked away; he couldn’t take any more pity. “I understand that this is hard for you, but the fact is that the case is out of our jurisdiction. I’ve had communication with the officer in charge, but while the investigation is still open --”

“-- have they found _ anything _ ?” At the look of warning the captain shot him, Alec closed his mouth. “Sorry, captain. I just…” 

“I understand, Alec,” said Captain Garroway quietly. “I know your position better than anyone.” 

His words settled over the office uncomfortably. Alec’s gaze darted to the picture frame facing away from him on the desk. Alec dropped his to where his own white-knuckled hands clenched the edge of the desk, ashamed for mistaking empathy for pity. He took a few deep breaths, easing his grip, and watched the color return to his fingers. 

“I’m sorry,” Alec said, voice low. He couldn’t bring himself to meet the captain’s eyes.

Luke studied him closely. “Have you considered my suggestion? You could use a few days off, Alec.” 

Alec jerked his head up. “You’re not --”

“-- I’m not suspending you, no. But you could stand to take a few days off,” said Luke, gentler than Alec had ever heard him. “Step away from the station for a few days. Be with your family.” 

Alec wanted to laugh at that. Family. They weren’t a family without Izzy -- not really. Alec couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t bear to see his mother cry anymore, and he couldn’t deal with the dazed, hardened look his father wore. His only source of comfort might have been Jace, but an entire country stood between them. 

And then there was Max. Alec didn’t know how to handle that. How could he tell a nine year boy that his beloved older sister may never be coming home?

Alec blinked, eyes suddenly wet. He couldn’t handle it himself, either. His sister was practically a part of him -- he didn’t know how to live without her. He never thought he would have to. 

“How did you deal with it?” Alec asked quietly. He wiped the warm tears from his eyes with the back of his hand and gave a hollow, joyless laugh. 

Luke studied him for a moment. The topic had been off the table for years. Alec had seen the photograph by accident, and he hadn’t dared to ask about it. It was the one case Luke had never solved -- and the one that ate away at him, devouring him further with every day that passed. 

“I didn’t,” said Luke, finally. When Alec looked up, his eyes were filled with a sorrow that no amount of time could temper. “Go home, Alec. I’ll call you if I get any updates.”   


* * *

  
_ Damn it, Izzy, _ Alec thought, annoyed. He nudged aside a pair of her shoes with familiar agitation. His sister had never been the most organized of individuals, so Alec wasn’t surprised to find a pile of shoes in the entryway of her apartment. Normally, he would have shoved them out away and made a pointed comment to Izzy about picking up after herself. This time, however, he carefully moved them aside, setting the shoes one by one on the nearly empty rack by the door. 

Would Izzy have left her apartment in this state, Alec wondered, if she knew it was going to be investigated by police officers at the end of the night? When they had taken his statement, the detective in charge of Izzy’s case mentioned that the apartment had been “ransacked”. Looking around, Alec knew it was probably just Izzy’s own disorganized chaos -- in fact, the sheer scale of the mess probably would have deterred any burglars. Alec flipped the light switch on. 

_ Well _ , Alec thought darkly,  _ good thing she never got that cat _ . 

He wasn’t sure what he was doing. His sleep had been restless the night before; he spent the night tossing and turning, waking himself up with the same nightmares that had plagued him since Izzy’s disappearance. An email from the captain’s assistant told him he was not to come to the station for the remainder of the week, and so Alec had spent some time riding the subway around the city for the morning as if in a daze, until he found himself standing in front of Izzy’s apartment complex for the first time in nearly two weeks. 

There had been no signs of foul play, and no reason to believe that the apartment was a crime scene -- but it was still under investigation. Alec knew he shouldn’t be there, but he still he clung to the hope that there was something that the police had overlooked, something that could lead him to his sister. 

He did the dishes first. There weren’t many of them, mostly lipstick marked coffee mugs, some of them still half full. Alec was especially careful with the chipped, misshapen one that Max had made for Izzy in a pottery class in the third grade. It had always been Izzy’s favorite. 

Alec couldn’t bring himself to move anything else. Instead, he made the short, dreaded trek to Izzy’s room. It still smelled like her perfume. Unsurprisingly, the floor was covered in clothing. 

For someone so enamoured of fashion, it was a surprise that Izzy didn’t utilize her walk in closet -- instead, she kept most of it in her room, contributing to the cluttered atmosphere. Alec caught a glimpse of himself on the mirror hanging off of the closet door. He was looking a little bit better, but still couldn’t stomach his own reflection. He pulled the door open to reveal the only tidy room in the apartment. 

Izzy’s makeshift office was immaculate, lit only by a small window set into the far wall. Nothing hung from the racks, but the walls were instead lined with filing cabinets and a desk. While the rest of the apartment had a touch of her decorative flair, the office was spartan. The only exception was a patch above her desk, which was littered with photographs. 

Alec wandered across the room to peer at them. There was a blurry picture of him and his sister laughing at Alec’s most recent birthday, a dollop of frosting on his nose from the cake. Next to it was a family photograph, a few years old and visibly awkward. Below, a picture of a teenage Izzy smiling at the camera through her braces, Max cradled in her arms. 

Alec could have stared at that wall forever. Instead, he forced himself away, and toward the filing cabinets. 

Izzy’s computer hadn’t been found during the investigation. They had tried using that, or her cell phone, to track her, but nothing had come back. They hadn’t even been able to check her internet history remotely -- all of the data was, inexplicably, gone. The detectives had combed through her physical research, at a loss of what to do with pages and pages of alleged paranormal encounters from the 1970s. 

Only a few people possessed a key to Izzy’s apartment, and even fewer to her cabinets. Sighing, Alec pulled out a thick ream of papers dated back to 2011: Izzy’s first published article. 

Smashed between the pages of tabloids and sensationalist newspapers about paranormal phenomena and cryptid sightings, Izzy was able to spin hay into gold. Writing under a pen name, she launched expert investigations into either proving or debunking ghost sightings, alien encounters, urban legends, and paranormal phenomena. Every now and then, one of her more realistic articles would make their way into some of the most decorated publications in New York City, but for some reason. she always returned to the World News Weekly. 

Alec flicked through the first bulging file, sighing, and remembered Izzy’s question about magic. She was always looking for it in the real world. 

At this point, Alec could use some magic too. 

By the time the sun had begin to set, leaving the small room nearly drenched in darkness, Alec was ready to give up. He had spent most of the day combing through the folders. The most recent one was dated for a few months ago, the research for the story about the Jersey Devil. 

Frustrated, he slammed the metal drawer closed. It wasn’t there. 

It wasn’t in her room, either, but Alec still had the ghost of a papercut on the pad of his thumb. A souvenir from that conversation about her newest conversation. He couldn’t remember anything about the location, only the sense of unease that permeated through him at its mention. 

Standing in Izzy’s empty apartment, Alec felt cold. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to leave, but he couldn’t stomach the idea of going back home, either. He drifted toward the coffee table. The latest issue of Izzy’s magazine was still sitting open to her story, and he lifted it gingerly. He ran his finger over her name on the page, feeling lonelier than he ever had in his entire life. 

His eye caught on something through the glass top of the coffee table. Alec crouched down to retrieve it. 

It was a photograph, dark and glossy, of a building at night. Alec raised an eyebrow, examining the foreign facade. In neon letters, vibrant even through the photograph, was the word _ PANDEMONIUM _ , floating above the entrance in the dim night. 

Alec flipped the photograph over. On the back, in smudged black ink --  _ Find Magnus Bane _ .    
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far! Feel free to let me know what you think!


	2. pandemonium

_Pandemonium,_ Alec recalled, _the high capital of Satan and his peers._

He raised an eyebrow. The gritty nightclub exterior was ominous, but it certainly didn’t resemble Milton’s grandiose vision of Hell. The entrance gaped open, music blaring loud enough to fill the neighborhood. The beat pulsed under Alec’s feet as if the cement was alive. A steady stream of people trickled in and out of the nightclub, their faces lit with neon lights of all shapes and colors.

Eyes turned down, Alec caught his reflection in a puddle of water. Scowling, dressed in all black, he was a stark contrast to the vivid partygoers around him -- except for the pink glow that blinked around him, rippling over his silhouette.

Alec’s brow creased. He looked up slowly, staring straight at a neon sign. It flickered hypnotically, shifting between _PANDEMONIUM_ and _DEMON_ as if in sync with the beat of the music.

Shrouded in night, the converted warehouse was alive, bursting at the seams with music and drunken revelry. Alec hadn’t been to a nightclub in a long time, and he eyed the line wearily. He certainly wouldn’t have come of his own volition, but he could still picture Izzy’s smile when she had talked about it. Brushing a hand under the back of his jacket, Alec felt for the familiar weight of his holster.

Alec sidestepped the line completely. He walked straight through the gaping entrance and into the blinking lights of the club. A beefy hand clamped over his arm and yanked him back.

“What the fuck do you think yo--”

“I don’t have time for this,” said Alec, digging in his pocket for his wallet. Any other time, he would have flipped it open to his badge, but instead he pulled out a neat stack of twenty dollar bills. He counted them out one by one to the shock of the bouncer. “Take these and give me a stamp.”

Unsurprisingly, the bouncer complied. He pocketed the money and eyed Alec up and down. The second the stamp left his skin, leaving behind an inky cat’s eye, Alec took off, plunging into the depths of Pandemonium.

* * *

The sounds of the outside world fell away behind Alec, swallowed by a barrage of music and chatter. The entryway slanted downward, fading into darkness. The walk was packed. Couples were intertwined together against the mirrored walls. Illuminated by red lights, reflections of their inhibition repeated on into eternity. Others leaned against the mirrored surface, a few of them with lit cigarettes in hand, heads ringed in hazy light from the smoke. Alec pushed his way past them in distaste, swerving around bodies as he descended further into the building. Under foot, the floor pulsed and hummed with the beat of the music.

There was a reason Alec hated clubs. The masses of people, the deafening noise, the stink of alcohol, the mindlessness of it all… it was something Alec couldn’t understand, a kind of escape that had never called to him. As he pushed through bodies to get to the main floor, a bit surprised at the length of descent, he couldn’t help but think that if - no, _when_ \-- he found Isabelle, he was going to kill her himself.

The mouth of the walkway finally opened up, and Alec found himself ushered onto the main floor of Pandemonium.

Music exploded around him. The ceilings were high and vaulted, strangely reminding Alec of a cathedral, and lights bounced off of them in a dizzying array of patterns and colors. The upper levels of the club was ringed by a VIP deck, and a sea of people roiled underneath, gyrating against one another to the beat. Alec ran a hand under the collar of his jacket, warm already.

Alec cast a gaze back toward the entranceway, then back out on the dance floor. His eyes followed the columns leading up to the vaulted ceiling. The descent to the main floor hadn’t been _that_ steep…

“Dammit, Izzy,” he muttered, scanning the crowd. “Where are you?”

* * *

 “No, sorry,” said the green-haired bartender, arms folded on the sticky bar. Her coworkers scowled as they worked around her, trying to appease the crowd as quickly as possible. She swiped through the pictures of Izzy, smile blinding as ever, on Alec’s phone with a flick of her wrist. Her gathered eyebrows formed a line in her skin, and she looked up at Alec with a small shake of her head. Handing the phone back to Alec, she said,  “Yeah, I haven’t seen her. When was the last time you said she was here?”

Alec glanced down at his phone, where he, Izzy, and Jace smiled at the camera. It had been taken just a few months before, at the fancy New Years Eve party his parents threw every year. “It would have been about a week ago.”

The girl shook her head. Immersed in the colored lights from the dance floor, her hair shifted from green to purple. “I don’t remember, but a lot of people come through here. She could have been. You want something to drink, hon?”

“I don’t drink,” Alec said briskly. The bartender raised an eyebrow, amused. “She would have been here alone, probably talking to the people who work here. I need to talk to the other bartenders.”

“Look around you,” the girl said, gesturing to the dance floor. “We get hundreds of people here on the weekends. No one is going to remember another beautiful girl trying to chat up a bartender.” She paused. Her eyes trailed slowly down Alec’s body.

“Who did you say that was? Your girlfriend?”

 “Sister,” Alec said, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

 “Alright,” the girl bobbed her head, smile curved into something feral. She leaned forward on her arms. “You here alone?”

 Alec raised an eyebrow, confused. “I was hoping to meet my sister here,” he said.

The girl laughed, running a hand through the silky tresses of her bob. “Yeah, totally. You know, my shift is over in about half an hour. Maybe after, you and I could…”

 “There you are,” a smooth voice cut in. Alec felt the weight of a hand settle gently at the small of his back, and he stiffened in response -- just a few inches away, his holster rested on his hip. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

 The bartender’s eyes darted between Alec and his -- assailant? Savior? Alec wasn’t quite sure. He opened his mouth to tell the stranger he was mistaken, but as soon as gaze landed on the man, Alec felt like the breath had been ripped from his lungs.

 The music still pounded around him, an unending rhythm in the night, and people still laughed, sang and drunkenly stumbled against him, yet Alec felt like the world had suddenly narrowed to the two of them. The other man smiled; the action crinkled the corners of his lined eyes attractively. The lights in the club highlighted the white-blonde streak that shot through his hair, painting it technicolor. Alec’s skin grew hotter under the other man’s gaze.

 “Are you two…” the bartender trailed off, gesturing vaguely between the two of them.

 “I, uh --”

 “We are,” said the man smoothly. “And we’ll take two martinis, dry.”

 Without another word, the girl spun around to make their drinks. Alec stood, anxiously aware of how close the man’s hand was to his holster. The stranger chatted calmly with Alec, and then dropped a pile of cash onto the bar when the bartender returned, sliding two martini glasses to them. He told her to keep the change which, apparently, was enough for her to forgive him for swooping in and taking Alec away; she cheerfully thanked them for their patronage, tucked the extra cash into her shirt, and moved onto  the next customer.

 The man handed one of the martinis to Alec and stepped from the bar, gently guiding him towards one of the booths set off from the dance floor. Once the bar had been swallowed by the crowd again, the stranger dropped his hand from Alec’s back and turned to him. He looked Alec up and down over the rim of his drink.

 “I apologize for that,” the man said cordially, taking Alec by surprise. Closer, Alec could see bits of glitter sparkling in his smoky eyeliner. “You looked a little lost, and that one there has a way of eating men alive.” His lips quirked up in a smile. “Though I must say, I won’t complain that I was able to buy you a drink. My name is Magnus, at your service.And you are...?”

  _Magnus_. Alec rolled the name around in his head. Something about it was so familiar…

 “Alex,” said Alec, dazed. “I mean -- Alexander.” Leaning against one of the pillars in the club, fingers pressed to the cold stem of a glass and talking to a handsome man, Alec suddenly felt twenty one years old again and steeped in denial. He could kick himself. Shaking his head, Alec sighed. It was so hot. “Alec. Call me Alec.”

 That wasn’t enough to knock the pleasant smirk from Magnus’ face. “Well, Alex-Alexander-Alec, would you care to dance?”

 Alec hated dancing. He had hated it his entire life, and yet he couldn’t help but feel drawn to the curve of Magnus’ mysterious smile. He glanced around the packed dance floor, nervously taking a sip of his drink. He regretted it immediately. His face scrunched up and he turned his narrowed eyes down at the drink, glaring at the olive as if in betrayal. Magnus laughed, a sound far more pleasant than whatever trashy EDM was blaring through the speakers.

 “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to,” Magnus said. Slipping a hand loosely around Alec’s wrist, he lead him toward the dance floor with a smil. “Come on.”

 Alec couldn’t find a reason to say no, and he let himself be guided into the eye of the storm. His head felt light; he hated crowds, but there was something intoxicating about the way it surged around him, and about the warm press of Magnus’ hand around his wrist. So much of Alec’s youth had been spent in the closet, hiding from his own desires. Years had been spent running from himself, running from any chance of intimacy.

 He laughed as he let Magnus pull him closer, his smile mirrored on Magnus’ face. Hesitant at first, Alec let his hands ghost over Magnus’ arms and back, feeling the solid warmth hidden underneath his clothes. Alec didn’t know the lyrics to the song, but he let the music wash over him, pulsing under and through his body, the hypnotic lights strobing overhead.

 Magnus was a good dancer -- far better than Alec’s clumsy swaying, at least -- but he generously pulled Alec along for the ride, his smooth movements almost infectious. He let Magnus’ hand slip under the collar of his jacket, a thumb tracing along the side of Alec’s neck, and wondered hazily why he had never done this before.

  _Isabelle was right_ , he thought. _This is fun._

 Isabelle….

 Alec frowned. Isabelle. Thoughts of his sister danced at the edge of his mind. Isabelle…. There was something important going on with Isabelle, but no matter how she flitted in and out of his thoughts, he couldn’t quite place it.

 A hand pressed against his cheek, gently, and Alec’s gaze was lifted to look at Magnus.

 “Are you alright?” he asked, shouting to be heard over the music.  

 Why wouldn’t he be? Isabelle was right. This was fun. The pounding of the music was distorted, as if heard from underwater. Alec shook his head, trying to dispel his thoughts, and lifted his glass to his lips.

 It never made it. A woman reeled into his side, and the glass went crashing to the ground, shattering in an explosion of broken pieces that apparently didn’t bother those around him. The sound broke whatever trance Alec was in; suddenly he was surrounded by strangers, sweat dripping down his back, and dancing in public with a man he had only met minutes before. The music was deafening.

 “Sorry about that,” someone shouted in his ear, and Alec turned in time just to catch a flash of red hair and green eyes before the girl took off through the crowd.

 “Alec? Are you alright?”

 Alec tore his gaze away from the girl’s receding figure, drawing back to look into Magnus’ concerned eyes. They were beautiful even in the haze that permeated the room, but a wave of fear crashed into Alec. He shrugged out of Magnus’ grasp, shooting a look to where the redhead had disappeared.

 “I have to go,” Alec said, and took off to follow her. He didn’t look back, knowing that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to tear himself away from Magnus again.

 Instead, he let the sea of people swallow Magnus as he pushed through the crowd, chasing a ghost.

 

* * *

 

Clary Fray was twenty two years old when she and her best friend, Simon Lewis, disappeared in 2003. It had been years before Alec had joined the force, but she was one of those hushed cases that was whispered throughout the precinct, a poorly kept secret. The missing stepdaughter of the captain had been a case of speculation for years. The rumors never changed -- some thought she had been kidnapped by an enemy of the captain’s, revenge for putting away some high profile criminal. Others thought she had run away, spurred by threats from her biological father. Regardless of the reason, Clary Fray was a ghost who had long haunted the halls of Alec’s station, the one case that Captain Garroway could never solve.

Alec had seen her picture twice. Once, in a photograph kept on the captain’s desk, turned away from the rest of the room. The second time had been sandwiched in Izzy’s sheaf of papers, a snapshot of a girl who was probably dead.

What exactly, Alec wondered, eyes darting furiously around the perimeter of the club, was a supposedly dead girl doing in a nightclub in Brooklyn, thirteen years later?

Alec scanned the bottom floor, but she had either left or been lost in the crowd. He had nearly given up hope, when a head full of copper, curly hair was suddenly visible over one of the banisters leading up to the overhead pavilion, a dark-haired boy at her side.

He chased after her, darting up the stairs as quickly as he could, catching flashes of her heels overhead, but when he finally burst onto the pavillion, it was empty.

Alec looked around. In contrast to the flurry of energy and activity down below, the unattended VIP area was deserted. Champagne bottles and empty glasses littered the surfaces of tables, chairs were pushed aside, but there wasn’t a single other person the upper level. The luxurious leather couches sat empty and set into the walls was a series of doors, presumably leading into some kind of private room.

He ran a hand through his hair, now damp with sweat, and leaned against the railing of the pavilion. Most of the lower floor was visible from his vantage point, and he watched the chaos unfold below. Something coiled in in the pit of his stomach when he imagined himself down there, dancing with a stranger with reckless abandon. It was either shame or arousal. Either way, Alec felt sick. He pressed a hand to his neck, unconsciously tracing the pattern of Magnus’ thumb, and wondered what had happened. How could he have forgotten Izzy?

Alec tilted his head upwards. Even from here, he couldn’t quite see the top of the vaulted ceiling, high and immense enough to remind Alec of a cathedral. For the first time that night, Alec found himself thinking, _That isn’t possible._

A quiet laugh interrupted Alec’s thoughts. He turned from the view of the dance floor to see Clary Fray and Simon Lewis, arm in and arm, disappearing through one of the doors ringing the pavilion. 

“Wait,” Alec called, but neither of them turned to look at him, and he followed. The door was heavier than it looked. It opened to a mirrored walkway, reminiscent of the one that Alec had entered the club through, and he found himself alone except for his own reflection. His own face scowled back at him a thousandfold. Sighing in frustration, he chased the sound of footsteps through the hall, scarcely stopping to second guess the turns he made whenever his path forked between two walkways.

The journey was infuriating. One moment he was so close to the two that he felt he could reach out and touch one of them, and the next, Alec was alone in a hallway that trailed off into infinity, not even the sound of footsteps to guide him. Any amount of time could have passed since he entered the building; it felt like he had been there for minutes or even hours. He slipped his phone out of his pocket to check the time, and cursed when the screen automatically blinked off. No matter how furiously he pressed at the power button, it wouldn’t turn on.

Just when he was losing hope, the walkway opened up again, Clary and Simon in sight. Alec sped up, following the two of them around the corner --

\- and an arm flew out, hitting him the chest. He found himself pressed against the wall, a hand covering his mouth. His head hit the wall, hard, and he felt the mirror behind him crack. Alec fought back, flailing out instinctively; when he couldn’t land a hand on his assailant, he reached a hand behind him, awkwardly groping around for his gun. It was too dark to see his attacker’s face, but it was a man -- and a strong one at that.  
  
“Be quiet,” the familiar voice hissed, just as Alec managed to get a grip around his gun, “I’m trying to help you.”  
  
The assurances didn’t calm Alec. He relaxed his body for a moment before rearing forward to headbutt his attacker in the face. There was a groan, and Alec could hear a crack. Something wet dripped onto his shirt -- blood. It didn’t deter the attacker; if anything, he gripped Alec tighter, dragging him around the corner and back into the hallway.  
  
Alec tensed, ready to fight again, when something passed through the hallway they had just evacuated.  
  
The figure that passed loomed tall, taller even than Alec. He stared, mouth ajar, as he watched its retreating figure down the hallway. He didn’t need the other man’s hand against his mouth; Alec couldn’t even breathe for fear. The suit the figure wore was exquisite. A fathomless black set with chrome detailing, it almost seemed to melt into the darkness around it, the bold lines of the tailoring perfectly fitting the lethal form of the figure. Alec’s eyes climbed higher, up the sharply pleated legs of the pantsuit, to the crisp shoulders, all the way to back of the figures enormous, dark head -- and the two, angled horns that stretched up from it.  
  
The figure passed slowly, and Alec couldn’t breathe again until the echo of its footsteps were too far away to hear. His attacker released him, hand dropping from his jaw, and Alec sucked in a breath. When he looked up from his position leaning against the wall, it was to see the familiar eyes of Magnus.  
__________________  
  
Alec stared at Magnus, almost more captivated by him than the creature he had just witnessed. Even with blood dripping from his nose, he was still beautiful. Alec’s mind flashed, inappropriately, to their first meeting on the dance floor, and he stepped back to put some distance between them.  
  
“I have saved you twice,” Magnus joked, dazedly touching his fingers to his upper lip, “and this is how you repay me? You sure know how to make a guy feel special, Alexander.”  
  
Alec colored at that. Only his parents called him Alexander, and, even then, it was only when they were mad at him. He supposed it was his fault for messing up his own name in front of an attractive stranger… and then hitting him in the face.  
  
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Alec muttered, scrambling upright. He fumbled awkwardly in his pocket, searching for something to give Magnus, and only came back with a crumpled up receipt.  
  
“Don’t be,” Magnus said, accepting the receipt. “You can make it up to me later, I’m sure.”  
  
Even with blood dripping from his nose, he managed to make it seem suggestive. Alec rolled his eyes, cautiously leaning his head around the corner. The hallway he had turned from stretched on and on, ending only in darkness. There was no sign of the mysterious figure.Alec grimaced and turned back to Magnus.  
  
“What the hell was that?” asked Alec, though he felt surprisingly calm. Even skeptics had their limits, and Alec’s had been tested to the very brink in the short amount of time since he had entered Pandemonium. The club could be haunted, or Magnus could be a wizard, or there could even be some demon lurking the halls and Alec wouldn’t care -- as long as he found his sister.

  
“You saw it too?” Magnus asked, nonchalant. Holding the receipt to his nose, he tipped his head back.

  
“You’re doing it wrong,” Alec corrected. He gently tipped Magnus’ head forward and instructed him to pinch his nose, the same way he had for his younger siblings over the years. He shifted guiltily. “Are you still bleeding?”  
  
“I don’t think so,” Magnus said, voice muffled. He let out a small laugh. “You sure know how to give head, Alexander.”  
  
More flirting. Alec stuttered, avoiding eye contact.  
  
“Look, I -- earlier, on the dance floor, that was a mistake. I’m not here for -- for that,” he said, words coming out in a rush. His mind unhelpfully replayed the feeling of Magnus’ skin under his hands, the closeness of their bodies. “I just need to find my sister.”  
  
“Your sister?” Magnus asked.  
  
“She’s missing,” Alec said.  “I think she was here.” Now that Magnus had the nosebleed under control, Alec stepped back, uncomfortable with their proximity. “Do you come here often?”  
  
Magnus smirked, eyebrows raised. It sounded like a pickup line, but Alec’s jaw was set with determination. “I think so.”  
  
“You _think_ so?”  
  
“Yes,” said Magnus, fiddling with the necklaces draped over his chest. Alec had tangled his hands in those necklaces earlier, he remembered, cheeks flushing with shame. “I can’t remember how long I’ve been here.”  
  
Magnus’ quiet words seemed to reverberate through the empty hallway, and he looked up towards Alec. At first, he thought Magnus was staring at him -- until he realized that Magnus was focusing on his own gaze over Alec’s shoulder, staring back at him from the mirrored surface of the wall.  
  
Alec licked his lips. A question had been thrumming at the back of his mind since just after he had entered the club, when all of his instincts were shouting at him to turn and leave. He had been too frightened to voice it, but after seeing that creature sauntering down the halls, he knew he had to ask. “What is _here_ ?” Alec asked.  
  
Magnus hummed. He pushed himself off from the wall and walked the length of the hallway. As if pulled by a string, Alec followed. “I was just starting to wonder that myself.”  
  
“You don’t know?” Alec asked, annoyed. “What is this, some kind of sick game? Look, I need to find my sister. She’s been missing for over a week. And Clary --”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“This girl, she -- she’s been missing too. For years.” Magnus took a sharp turn; unsurprisingly, they ended up in the an identical hallway. “I don’t have time to dance with strangers, or to run around like a rat lost in a maze -- where are we?”

“Pandemonium?”

“No,” Alec said, coming to a halt to look around himself. “That’s impossible. I’ve been walking for --” Alec couldn’t remember how long he had been walking “-- a long time. The building isn’t big enough.”

“And yet --” Magnus drummed his fingers against the glass of the wall, creating an unpleasant staccato “--here we are. You’re quite the skeptic, aren’t you?”

“You sound like my sister. We _can’t_ be in Pandemonium. It’s physically impossible.”

“There are more things in the heavens and earth,” Magnus said, “than are dreamt of in your physics.”

Alec rolled his eyes. “So you can remember Shakespeare, but not your own life?”

Magnus paused and turned to look at Alec, a guarded look in his eyes. “Why do you think you are here, Alec?”

“I just told you,” Alec said, irritated, “I’m here to find my sister. Does this hallway ever end?”

“Have you ever been to a nightclub before?”

Alec frowned, turning a corner, only to find the same thing. He wanted to scream. “Why does that m--”

“A place like this,” Magnus said, drumming his fingers on the wall again. It was such an unpleasant sound. “A nightclub is the kind of place you come to when you want to forget about things. When you want to get lost, even just for one night. .”

 _I can’t remember how long I’ve been here._ Alec rolled Magnus’ earlier words around in his head, and felt annoyance give way to sympathy. Magnus was like his sister, like Simon and Clary -- lost.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

“I don’t think I can,” said Magnus. The two came to a fork in the hallway. Alec followed Magnus at the left turn. “That’s the kind of place this is. Each door leads to another room. By the time you cross into it, you’ve forgotten why you were trying to leave. After all, who would possibly want to leave the drunken revelry down below?”

“It’s not exactly _my_ idea of a good night,” muttered Alec, thinking about the mass of bodies with disdain. “Have you been up here before?”

“No,” Magnus said. “I don’t think I’ve ever left the first floor.”

Alec raised an eyebrow. “What changed?”

“You,” said Magnus. He said it casually, as if it was nothing at all. His eyes met Alec’s; for a second, Alec could have sworn they were a different color. When he blinked, they were back to their normal, beautiful brown. “I wanted to see you again.”

Alec’s mouth went dry. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He glanced around, avoiding Magnus’ eyes. His gaze caught on a crack in the mirror to the left. Frowning, Alec brushed the pad of his finger over it.  

“Be careful, or we’re both going to be bleeding,” Magnus joked.

“Are we back in the same hallway from earlier?” Alec asked. He turned to look at Magnus, one eyebrow raised. “This is from when you pushed me against the wall earlier.”

Magnus waggled his eyebrows. Alec rolled his eyes.

“So we’ve just been going in circles?” Magnus asked. He sighed. “Sounds about right.”

Alec stepped back, examining the crack that interrupted the wall. He supposed it was possible -- but if they were walking in one big circle, how had they not ended up back in the VIP pavilion?

“Stay here,” Alec said. He took off down the hall. It stretched on, seemingly longer than it had been the first time they were in it, and took a right turn…

...only to end up back in the same hall, standing behind Magnus.

“That was fast,” Mangus commented.

Alec took off down the hall again. This time, it forked as if split by another long hall, and Alec took the left turn.

And arrived behind Magnus again.

“So,” said Magnus. He leaned languidly against the wall, watching Alec closely. “What was that about physics?”

Scowling, Alec crossed his arms and turned to look at him. “Have we just been walking up and down the same hall all this time?”

Magnus turned around, exiting the same way that Alec had just arrived. Instantly, he appeared at the opposite end of the hall.

“Yes,” Magnus said.

“How is that even possible? Are we just trapped here forever?”

“You should probably stop taking things for granted,” Magnus said, drumming his fingers against the mirror again.

“Would you stop that?” Alec asked impatiently.

“Listen,” said Magnus. He flicked his finger, letting the flat of his nail land against the mirror. The sound was loud, echoing down the hall.

Alec unfolded his arms. He tapped finger against the wall, listening carefully. “It sounds hollow,” he said slowly, and tapped his finger against it again, hearing the same sharp noise he had heard from Magnus. It reminded him of the two way mirror in the interrogation room -- it sounded more like a window being tapped than a mirror set into a wall.

“That’s what I thought,” Magnus murmured. He shifted, knocking his fist against the crack left behind by Alec’s head -- nothing.

Alec slipped his gun from the holster. Magnus raised an eyebrow but said nothing, shifting back. Making sure the safety was still on, Alec gripped the handle of the gun and raised his arm, bringing it down hard against the mirrored surface. It collided with a smack that reverberated through the hall. The mirror caved where the base of the gun hit it, and Alec watched as one of the veins of the crack slowly splintered across the wall. The rest of the jagged edges followed suit, the entire surface of the mirror wrought with fractured glass. The first piece hit the ground and echoed through the hallway.

Alec raised his arms to protect his face. The walls fell all around them, splintering and shattering in a deafening shower of broken glass.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd love to hear what you think! I haven't decided my exact posting schedule yet -- I have the next few chapters out written and then the rest planned out, but what with school and everything, it might update a little slow. I hope you've all enjoyed it, please let me know in the comments! and you're always welcome on my inbox on tumblr, @[magicmagnus](https://magicmagnus.tumblr.com).
> 
> Also, Magnus made a comment in this chapter that was a direct reference to one of my favorite movies -- and one that, when I think about it, has similar plot elements. Did you catch what it was?

**Author's Note:**

> I always love hearing what you guys think! Don't forget to drop me a comment below or hit me up on tumblr!


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